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J.K. Rowling - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

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Spoiler for lordshadowisle - Overlord of None:

Overlord of None

You know, being #2 in a large evil empire seems to be a good job. If I were to ask any of the two million casually tortured peasants whether they would like to have my position, I'm sure most of them would say, "I wouldn't mind it". But that's the difference between an Overlord and the overlorded. Ambition. If you don't aim for the top, the top aims for you.

When I woke up this morning I felt a tingle in my toes. And I knew it was time to set things into motion! Today shall be the Depose-the-Overlord day! After shaking off my foot cramps I rang up my lieutenant and instructed him to carry out my plans. The scheme was simple- I had already replaced the Inner Guard with troops loyal to me. It would be easy to oust him from his position! In fact, I could have done it a week ago, if I had wanted to. But I was clever, and waited patiently for a sign from the heavens. I got it; The toe tingling was clearly an omen instructing me to "move it".

For many years I was oppressed into the service of the Overlord. No longer! Finally I could denounce him openly with the victory taunt I had spent many a sleepless night writing.

At least, that's what I would have said, if the (ex) Overlord wasn't locked up in the dungeon cell beside mine. I succeeded in my coup, but I myself was succeeded shortly after. Damn. My lieutenant even stole my incredibly intelligent finishing line.

I look across into the (ex) Overlord's cell. He's napping now. Oh, he's smiling in his sleep as he hugs a royal silk pillow. He's smiling in his sleep!?!! No wait, how's he getting such luxurious items? It doesn't make any sense...

Fuhuhuhu... I understand now. He was just lucky. Clearly he must have been sleeping when he was captured. That's how he got the pillow, because he never let go. Haha. I am indeed a genius, to be able to discern the truth from such little information. I'm confident that I'll also be able to explain why the (ex) Overlord's cell contains a well-stocked bookshelf, a FlayStation, a bar fridge, internet access, marble pillars(!), gym facilities, a bowling alley, and two maidservants.

In comparison, my cell only has a comfortable stool, and a rat. And I lied about the stool being comfortable. What rubbish! This is no way to treat an (ex) Overlord! There is only one explanation, and this time I'm certainly correct. As an (ex) Overlord, my threat level is 1000x higher than the (ex-ex) Overlord. The stool and rat are tools placed intentionally to weaken my ability to rise back to power! But I will not be stopped so easily. Already, I have a cunning plan to thwart these power limiters.

I pick up the rat and throw it across the dungeon, into the (ex-ex) Overlord's domain. How's that! Now only the stool remains to stop me. But not for long, surely. No three-legged piece of furniture can deny an (ex) Overlord!

My intelligent ramblings are interrupted by a voice from the other side of the dungeon. Ah, the rat has woken my past employer. As always, I am right- the rat has natural disruptive properties. Thankfully I got rid of it before its terrible abilities were afflicted on me.

"You seem to be in a bad position, usurper." the man holding the rat said.

"Of course, it can't be helped. My danger level is much higher. I was after all the most powerful person in the country."

The (ex-ex) Overlord laughed out loud after hearing my words.

"WHAT DANGER LEVEL? Let's say one day of rule counts as one power. I ruled for over ten years, so my power level is at least 3600! You ruled for what, six hours? Your power level is only 0.25! I have over TEN THOUSAND times your power!"

"Fuhuhuhu.... still, my achievements are INFINITY times that of a normal person."

"Not if you round down."

... See! This is why I wanted to overthrow him in the first place. He is a bad employer. Thanks to him, my job prospects are now ruined. I don't even have retrenchment benefits.

"Anyway, as I said, you seem to be in a bad position."

"You just got the luckier end of the dungeon." I retorted defensively.

"Luck? Luck had nothing to do with it! It was my cunning scheme all along. This is my retirement plan!

You see, power is great, but power is a means, not an ends. Evil rule #66: You can't hold power until your death, unless you happen to die early. So you have to set intelligent goals, and use your power to achieve those goals. After that, power is just a bonus.

Recall those 'Discretionary Dungeon Funds'? You didn't think I was building a larger torture chamber or some dark experiment room, did you? Why would I want to do such a thing when I just can decree the same thing for free? No, I was building my retirement home here, as well as funding my 'Bribe the Dungeon Keepers' cache. And that, you fool, is why I'm living like this and why you're not.

And oh, you may have your rat back."

--------------------------------------------------

Lesser minds would be discouraged by circumstances, but not my great mind. I will succeed in the end. After all, I still have a comfortable stool and a loyal minion. Already I have a cunning plan...

"Go Mr Rat, seize the fat man's fridge and bring it back here! You can do it if you want to..."

Spoiler for papermario13689 - Symbols:

Drip, drip, drip goes the droplets of coffee,
symbolizing the tears I shed for you.
A pounding in my head;
the recollection of the pain I endured for you.
Our children return from their outing,
and I wish your smiling face was amongst them.
Anniversary cards between us;
they are all I have left of you.
Not a day goes by that I have forgotten your radiance;
your love controlled me, your mere presence empowered me.
Like the universe itself,
the moments we shared are endless.
Until and after death itself takes me,
I will love and honour you.

Damien woke up feeling like he had been whacked with a sledgehammer. His whole body felt exhausted as sweat beaded on his forehead. This was not how a person that closed million-dollar deals in several countries daily was supposed to feel. He was supposed to be in control. He was supposed to have the power to continue to climb the ladder of success. And here he was, bedridden at home for the third day in a row with injury. Damien hated being powerless and at the mercy of the perils of life. This was supposed to be happening when he was old and had achieved his dreams. Not when he was young and in his prime.

‘Damien!’ The voice of the one person he went weak at the knees for in the world coming through the door sent a welcome calm through his body. Juliet came through with a solemn look on her face, her eyes so fragile they looked like they could break any moment. She tried to hide the gentle tremble of her hands holding breakfast, but Damien saw those little things. Because from the moment they met, Damien was permanently smitten with Juliet. He was utterly powerless against her sapphire blue eyes, not to mention her silky long brown hair and her warm shapely body. In the midst of Juliet, Damien was not a power-hungry, success-driven achiever. Juliet was his sanctuary and he would do anything to preserve it and her happiness. That was the one thing he had to have control of.

‘Juliet, please don’t worry. I’ll get over this like I always get over any challenge. This is just a little bump in our life.’

Juliet silently handed a glass to Damien, who eagerly gulped it down. Juliet gently massaged his scalp with affection but her eyes were still on the verge of crying. ‘No, Damien. You’ve been working yourself too hard. I know that you want us to be comfortable for life, but at what cost? Your health has been deteriorating for weeks and you still push yourself too much. Everyone’s worried. Your mother calls me every day since you had that fall. Your boss Steven keeps telling me that it’s time you took a bit of time away from work since you’ve contributed so much these last couple of years.’ Juliet placed her free hand on her heart while her other hand slid down to Damien’s chin. ‘And I can’t stop worrying about you. I don’t want you to die young or be injured for life! We’ve enjoyed only three years of married life. I want to reach at least fifty-three without regretting being reckless in our youth.’

Placing the glass down on a bedside table, Damien felt guilt clog his veins like tar. He found it almost too painful to look Juliet in the eyes, but he felt it would be too cowardly to avoid her gaze. ‘I didn’t mean to worry you that much. I was on a roll and achieving so much. I finally felt that I was where I should be. But I’ve been obsessed with control. I wanted everything in our life to be perfect. I wanted your happiness above all.’ Damien’s hands sunk in shame as he exhaled deeply. ‘But all I ever needed was you. I realise that now.’

Damien felt his blood freeze. Those were words he had only heard two times in his life. The first time was when Juliet’s father was dying. The second was when Juliet had turned down an offer to go overseas for her career and chose love instead. That phrase was something Juliet reserved for news that was life-changing.

‘Go ahead.’

Juliet took a deep breath as a tear raced from her left eye, sticking to her cheek like glass to a gaping wound. ‘I’m pregnant.’

All it took to blow Damien’s world away were two words. Two little words you could hear a million times in a movie or a show but still feel calm while hearing them. But when it involved you, those two little words took on a completely different meaning and wielded such power. All Damien’s confidence and plans were obliterated in an instant. At that very moment, Damien learned that one could never truly control life. It was a futile, pointless objective. Regret began to creep into Jeremy’s skin. Not for what he had just been told. But for the fact he wished he had paid more attention to Juliet and shown how much he still loved her. Yet Juliet had never wavered in her love and devotion. She still gave him the zest for life he needed to get through each day. But now the tables were reversed. Juliet was the one in need – lost and uncertain. This was the moment Damien had to wash away all the mistakes of the last two years and console Juliet when she needed him most. How weird it felt that it took losing control to realise that what he cherished most in life had always been with him.

‘Are you alright, Juliet? Is our baby okay?’

Juliet opened her eyes slowly, breathing a loaded sigh of relief. Her eyes regained her trademark glimmer and a weak smile came across her face. ‘I’m fine, dear. I’m in my eighth week. There have been no complications thus far.’ She recommenced massaging Damien’s scalp but with a tremble in her touch and a quiver in her voice. ‘You called it “our” baby already, Damien? You’re accepting this so quickly?’

‘I’m terrified, babe. Any control or power I’ve had in my life is gone.’ Summoning his strength, Damien lifted his arms and gently cupped Juliet’s face. ‘But this happened for a reason. To show me that if I stop trying to control every bit of my life and trust the universe more, maybe I’ll enjoy every day like I should. That I should be grateful for the love you’ve given me without question. And that the power to create a life is far greater than material wealth or conquest.’

Juliet felt her fears melt away hearing those words as she lowered herself to Damien’s face and gently kissed him, caressing his neck as she hovered just above him. ‘Nothing is going to be the same anymore, Damien. Are you really prepared to throw your freedom away and be a father? Diapers, sleepless nights, teen rebellion and the whole works await you for at least twenty years.’

‘I’m up to the challenge, Juliet. You chose love back then. I choose love now. Just tell me what you need.’

Juliet’s tone changed to a gentle whisper as her smile grew. ‘Get better. Tell Steve you need some time off. And when you’re better, I want to take a photo shoot. So we can have something to show ourselves how we were when we took our first steps into the jungle that is parenthood. And that we were happy with where we chose to go in life.’

‘That’s all?’

‘And call your mother, Damien. She misses you. I’m sure she wants to be there for her son as he stumbles through parenthood.’

Damien grimaced. ‘Mum is going to slap me silly for knocking you up, Juliet. And you know it.’

Juliet giggled. ‘Probably, but she’ll forget it once she gets the urge to make you her delectable rhubarb crumble.’

‘Juliet, I envy you.’

Juliet’s eyebrows shot up with a start. ‘Why?’

‘You’ve got a life growing inside of you. What a powerful yet beautiful thing it is.’

Juliet rolled her eyes. ‘Honey, you are not going to envy me when you see the nausea, the belly, the cravings and labour. Trust me.’

‘Fair point.’

Juliet nuzzled in against Damien and embraced him around his chiselled chest.

Damien felt a jolt shoot through him that made his hairs stand on end. ‘Come again?’

Juliet stared into Damien’s eyes, flashing her sapphire irises with conviction. ‘One child. No more. I’m not crazy enough to destroy any chance of enjoying ourselves in other ways than parenthood.’

Damien nodded in submission then immersed himself in caressing Juliet with everything he had. He really was powerless against Juliet and her insatiable eyes. But that was fine. He no longer desired to be all-conquering in the wide world. He was more than content with the lifelong task of making his one constant domain in life – Juliet – one he would cherish and nurture for the rest of his days.

‘Welcome back, Damien.’

‘It’s good to be back.’

Spoiler for WordShaker - You Can't Help It:

“I’m going to get us out of this, you know. It’s going to get all better soon,” I whisper. I smile as wide as I can for my daughter. “I promise.”

Then I flip on the lights.

“Come on, kiddo, wake up!” I walk over and start to take off her blanket. “It's time for school.”
She pushes her face further into her pillow, shaking her head. “Dad,” she whines, “I don't wanna go to school.”
“I know, I know. But it's just one of those things that you just have to grin and accept.” I give her a pat on the head, ruffling her hair because I know it annoys her. She sits up in bed and turns to face me, looking a little cross, before removing my hand from her head.
“I wish we didn't have things like that.”
I pause for a moment and wince a little bit in the inside. Then I sigh. “Yeah,” I say, chuckling. “Yeah. But there's no time for whining, kid. Breakfast is already on the table.”

She swings her legs over and jumps off the bed, following me into the kitchen. There's a bowl of milk and cereal for both of us. We eat quickly and in silence. I'm supposed to go to work soon, after all. After I clean up my bowl and grab my keys, I pause at the door.

“You'll be okay getting to the bus by yourself?”
She looks up at me from her near-empty bowl. “Uh huh. It's just another school day, Dad!”
“Okay. But be careful.” I open the door and start to walk outside. “And don't forget to clean up.”
“Yes, Dad.”
When I look at her, jeez, she's only eight, but already she's so mature. I think about how she shouldn't be. I smile, but this one is more forced. “Have a great day at school.”
“Bye!”
“Bye.”

I get in my car. I don't go to work. I can't.

Instead, I drive around the block and then park at a nearby street corner. I stay there until I see the bus come by and pick up my daughter. I head back to the apartment, go in, and seat myself next to the phone. I'm waiting for a callback. I'm waiting for some hope.

I sit there for hours, remembering some bitter memories. I'd come to work on time. I did my work well, though I wasn't the best. It was financial reports for an insurance firm. Earnings this quarter were up. They were always up. I'd always hoped to quit, but where would I go from there? It was too difficult a decision to make, so they made it for me.

“Come into my office,” he said. Middle management hack, a little too comfortable with his job. “We're downsizing,” he said. “This business can't afford it. I'm sorry, but you're not alone. We're laying off a substantial percentage of the workforce. Business, you understand? It's not official yet, so we'll give you a few days to gather your things, clear up loose ends. I'm sorry, it's completely out of my hands.”

Hope never arrives.

I'm still sitting there when my daughter comes home. She walks in, looking a little surprised to see me there. But not overly so. I wave to her, but I have a wistful smile on my face. I try to shove some happiness there, but it's just not in me.

“You're home early, Dad.”
“Ah, well, my boss let me get home a little earlier today. Why, are you sad to see me,” I joke.
She shakes her head and sits down next to me. “Nuh uh, I'm happy. But you've been getting home early a lot.”
Yeah,” I say, but my voice is breaking. “Yeah.”
“Dad? Are you okay,” she asks me. Jeez, kiddo, you're too mature.
“Aha, I'm perfectly fine!” I clear my throat and force another smile. “See? So, how was school?”
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“It's going to get all better soon, isn't it?”
I hesitate. My throat clenches. “Wha—were you awake for that?”
“Uh huh,” she says, nodding. “Every morning.”
“Oh, well...”
“Dad?”

I don't say anything for a long time. There isn’t anything words can do.

But the silence tears at me.

“Would you give your old man a hug? I—I think I need it.”
She nods again and hugs me tightly. I notice that I'm crying and I start to wipe the tears away. “Ah, jeez, you don't need to see your dad like this, do you?”
“It's okay, Dad. You can't help it.”
“I suppose I can't!” I laugh and wear the smile I had this morning. “I guess this being something you can't help is okay, isn't it? Thank you.”
She giggles. “You're welcome, Dad.”
“It's going to get all better soon. It definitely will.”

I'll do everything I can.

Spoiler for xObserveRx - The Plan:

The Plan

“I got another phone call today,” my wife says to me with a look of suspicion on her face. I know it’s a suspicious grin when her left eye squints more than it really should. It’s almost like a twitch- there then not, but it’s definitely there and this time I suddenly have a bad feeling like something isn’t going according to plan anymore.

I try to deflect the comment, asking if the drapes in the living room are new. I know they’re over two months old, but with the amount of time I’ve spent away from home recently, it’s possible she might not remember that I asked the question last time I was here.
“You asked me about them last month,” she replies, beginning to sound annoyed, “Why can’t you just tell me who keeps calling here?” I sigh and slide out of my chair, leaving more than half my breakfast on the plate. If only I could tell her what’s been happening; I wouldn’t tell her everything, just enough to remove her suspicions. They’re really starting to get to me.

We knew that having a distanced marriage was going to be hard on the both of us, but I think I may have overestimated my devotion. It’s not that I don’t love her anymore; I just don’t feel like I belong at home anymore. With the project nearing completion, I don’t think things will be the same here ever again. If I can just make it until then, I’ll be okay. The last thing I ever wanted to do was cause strain on our marriage, but this project is the opportunity of a lifetime, hell, dozens of lifetimes; refusing it would’ve been insane.

“So you’re just going to leave without saying anything?” She asks as I lift my coat off the rack and slide my left arm into the sleeve. I look at her and can immediately tell that she is wearing down. It’s expected. Nineteen months of only seeing each other for two days has taken its toll. Her expression is no longer one of longing for someone, but instead of general concern for my well-being. She knows that something’s not right. I know the look because I’ve seen nineteen times before. She may be in the same boat as me; she probably isn’t in love with me anymore. She could even have someone on the side; I doubt I’d be able to tell anymore. The project is all I know now. It’s all I think about, it’s all I care about. I need to make sure it ends successfully.

I make for the door and she steps in front of me.
“When are you going to give the God damned answer I deserve?” She screams. Our pet Canary Starley shrieks from his home in the living room. I open my mouth to respond, but the words to explain what I’ve been doing, where I’ve been going, escape me. I push past her and move to the front door. I hear her storm off down the hall to the den. I know what she’s doing; I can hear her ruffling through papers on the desk in the den as I put my shoes on. As I reach for the doorknob I hear her return.
“Janice,” she starts, her voice quivering “that’s the name of the woman who keeps calling here.” I turn the knob. “She says she’s from your company, an associate working on the same project. She says she’s calling on your behalf. The funny thing is, that’s all she says. What does that mean?” I crack the door open and hear the familiar sound of a gun cocking. I turn to face my wife who now, a broken shell of a woman, can think of nothing besides getting herself some answers.
I know how this will end; the same way the last 33 attempts have, in failure. I babble through the same story I always do, telling her about Janice, Arin and Sam, my partners at the lab. I try to explain to her that if she’ll just let me get to the lab today I might be able to fix the problem. As usual, she isn’t buying it. I see her hand tremble, her finger moves for the trigger.
“Do you think I’m stupid, Will? Do you think I don’t know that you’re sleeping with her?” She steps forward. I know what’s coming and I hate it- hate myself for becoming so obsessed with something that I’ve forgotten how to love my wife anymore.
“Answer me, you bastard!” She screams, half sobbing, half laughing. I suddenly realize how exactly the same we are. She is just like me; obsessed with finding out the next bit of the story, the details of why her life is no longer what she wanted, hoped it would be. I take a long look at her and see myself, withering away in the lab, my family and friends, the ones who are still left, begging me to pull away, to give up control. I strike them down, one by one, shattering the memory of my sanity.

I close the door and move toward her. She needs to go; she’s been the problem in the experiment since day one, the only thing holding me back from greatness. I can take control if I just-
The gun goes off. A warm feeling fills my chest. I look down to see a red stain growing out of my suit. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. I’ve been shot 32 times before and each time I’ve grown more accustomed to the sensations associated with death. This won’t stop me this time. I know what has to be done.

I stagger forward and swing at my wife. Caught off guard, she drops the gun and stumbles backward into the china cabinet, sending the glass knick-knacks she’s collected rolling off the top of it. I reach down to pick the gun up and fall to my knees. She gasps in fear.
“Will, I-I’m sorry, p-please don’t-” she stammers, unable to think of anything else. I pick the gun up and point it at her. She turns and runs for the kitchen. I pull the trigger- once, twice, three times. She falls forward into the table, knocking the rest of my breakfast to the floor. Deathly silence follows. After a moment I release a sound that partially resembles a laugh which suddenly turns to coughing. I slump over on the floor. My plan had better work…

*********

I awake to Arin’s voice telling me he has never seen the meter jump so high. He can barely contain his excitement. “Y-you did it, Doctor Laird! You were in another reality!”
I sit up, still feeling woozy. Arin continues talking to me but I’m not listening. I can only think of one thing. I need to know if the plan worked.

I step off the table and move past the young scientist, who is still blabbing on in a frenzy. He’s so easily amused. If only my wife were like Arin this would be so much easier. I step out of the experiment room and make for the office at the end of the hall. I begin to shake with excitement. She’s not going to be there, I know it. The plan went through this time; she won’t be able to ruin my fun anymore. Just as I reach the door I hear my wife’s voice behind me.
“Are you done playing your stupid games with Arin yet, Will? It’s our anniversary for God’s sake, the least you could do is take me out for dinner.” I cringe with anger as she storms off down the adjacent hallway.
“Sure thing, honey,” I manage to get out before she rounds the corner toward the medical wing. When I hear the door close behind her I slam my fist into the wall, which knocks the sign next to her office to the floor. I pick it up and feel my blood start to boil.

She pulled the shaft out of the floor. As she budged it out the shaft pulsed with power and a smoking sword emerged as if carved from diamond. She then swung it at Warwind and as he ducked the sword carved out his right eye. The rest of his goons went crazy and arms in hand charged at her from all sides at once. She blocked one spear, cut another, but all the others pierce all the way though her. As they pulled their spears out Lilet fell to the ground—as it would seem, dead again. After a minute waiting on her to so even blink the men were convinced she was dead and put their arms at ease.

No sooner they took in a sigh of relief that one of them falls to the ground, dead. The others man their spears again and scream “The BITCH is still alive” but as they look towards her Lilet is still down, lifeless, motionless, and silent as a stone. As they all shake in fear Warwind, still recovering from the pain of losing his eye, screams and moans: “Behind you fools! Behind YOU!”, but his words were spoken a moment too late, as before they can even turn around three of them go down to a sword to the neck, much to all the other’s horror.

“Who are you bastard!” one of the man screams while shaking in his boots
“Who cares who he is, just KILL HIM!” yelled Warwind
“Kill me? And how are dead men, to kill me?” the man said

As the soldiers try to move forward their bones start to ache and their muscles hurt. One falls to the ground, shaking, another tries to lean on his broken spear, but his strength gives way and he nearly impales himself in it instead. Warwind runs out the door. As he goes though the halls he can hear the last of his men’s screams and pleads for their lives as the man from before finishes them off. “I’ll get my revenge… someday. They’ll see…” he thinks to himself. But as he approaches the exit the man falls down from the floor above and with sword wrenched in blood walks towards him.

“Wait… don’t kill me! Please! I have money, I can pay you!” pleads Warwind with as his legs give way
“Too late for that old man. You like your men are already dead.” said the man

Warwind starts coughing blood.

“No… Nooo!” he yells as a tremedous pain surges though his entire body
“The pain of losing your right eye has given you some immunity to the paralysing effect of the poison.”
“But you’re all out of time.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick… just like with the rest of your men.”

A day has passed. The blood of Warwind now adorns the halls like a rug and crows gather outside to the stench of rotting flesh. In the room where Lilet fell, the corpses of Warwind's, former, men are scattered all over, all with a piercing wound to the heart. All corpses lie rotting, all except for one, which is nowhere to be seen.

Several weeks pass, and in a mountain a collector meets with a cloaked man; one of his trusted supliers of exotic artifacts. On one hand the man has a scepter of some kind, or so the collector thought. The sceptor seemed old but the markings on it were very vivid, yet undecipherable. The man asks for the origin of the scepter to which the other man explains how it was once a weapon, a sword. It’s blade was this magnificinet dimond and the markings on it were burning red as if the fires of hell flowed though them, but when I tried to swing it to cut a piece of wood the magnficent blade of dimond shatterd, and in time the dimon melted and the water from it evaporated into nothingness. After a while the markings also started to fade. The collector nodds and petts his bear and asks of the swords origins. The man paused for a moment and then explains that he only knew of the swords last owner, a girl who wilded it, but that girl is dead, and her body was burned in holy fire because it did not rot. Now nothing remains of her, and the secrets of the blade probably died with her; so the man explains.

The collector did not ask any more questions afterwards and before long they had agreed on a fair price in silver and gold coin, and the shaft that had led Lilet to her doom was now just a set piece in a the empty house of some rich bastard in the northern mountain mining town of Six Forks, there it stood silent, and empty.